For many people, the sales are to January what holidays are to August.

The entire month is lost in a fury of shops, queues, receipts, bags and Prozac.

Well, maybe not the latter, although it would dull the senses and make the whole thing more bearable.

Millions of us go to the January sales, but does anyone actually enjoy this annual ritual?

For some the sales probably come as welcome relief after a fortnight with 17 warring relatives in an over-heated semi, eating left-over turkey and After Eights in front of endless re-runs of Auntie's Naughtiests Bloomers.

And for others, me included, it's an opportunity to get next year's Christmas shopping out of the way, from gifts to wrapping, to cards and tags. I popped into a charity shop at the weekend and bagged myself half-a-dozen packs of cards at a third the normal price. That hardly constitutes fanatical sale-shopping, but as I left and walked to my car I couldn't resist the magnetic draw of the 50 per cent off signs. I ended up with two children's tops from Next, boxer shorts from M&S and some hair accessories from Claire's.

Satisfying, it was, but it certainly wasn't pleasurable. I've had better times having teeth pulled. Being swept along in a sea of people isn't fun. My heart goes out to young children, all they can see as they are pushed or hauled from shop to shop is wall-to-wall bags. I'm surprised there aren't more toddlers whose first words are NEXT or GAP.

And it is so hard to resist those signs, 50 per cent reduction, 75 per cent. You have to exert enormous willpower and ask yourself whether you need that electronic twin-pack salt and pepper mill-cum-digital alarm clock. An electric strimmer may be £50 cheaper than normal, but are you going to use it on the top floor of a warehouse conversion?

Impulsive I'll-buy-this-because-it's-so-cheap-regardless-of-whether-I-need-it' purchases never work out. In the long run. they are a waste of money.

I've been seduced by bargains in the past and come home with all sorts of rubbish. "But it was only £10," I told my husband as I wafted a car vacuum cleaner under his nose. In three years it hasn't been out of the box - I'm going to car boot it this year, and will probably ask £3 for it.

And however much I love a pair of suede boots I bought in a sale two years ago, they are size six and will never fit me. I wear them occasionally, but with two pairs of thick walking socks underneath its hard to zip them up. They might have had had £50 knocked off, but they will never be right.

I admit, it must be amazingly satisfying to bag one of those TVs for £1 in a sale, but I couldn't face a night in a deckchair outisde Curry's.

The worst thing about the sales is that, however many bargains there may be, they are thrust upon us at a time of year when we are so broke we shouldn't be shopping at all. Stay in, lock the door, throw your purse in compost bin. That's what I advise.